


The Rewards/Side Effects of Slayer Inner-Growth

by btvsp2082



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Animal Transformation, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btvsp2082/pseuds/btvsp2082
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Comics Timeline. Post-S9, Pre-S10. After the events of Season Nine, magick (and its consequences) are back, her family is reunited, and Buffy has finally come to terms with what it means that only she can be the Slayer. Well, she might just have one more issue to work through...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my more recent stories. When I posted elsewhere, it was originally Post-S8, but after the next season, I edited and changed some things around.
> 
> It was inspired by all the comic shenanigans. Cenaturette!Dawn, Willow glamouring her and Buffy into a bird and a fish at one point...etc. Plus, the comics seem to have little Buffy/Willow moments in them that could be read into if you like that sort of thing. This one was fun for me.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. :-)

Weeks after the Deeper Well and Willow bringing both Dawn and magick back to life, Buffy woke in her apartment, rested for once. And this morning, she didn’t immediately think about those bills she owed. More than rested, she felt...whole.

Usually something was missing. Being sure everyone could tell, her mood almost always soured, and well-cemented walls arose. Usually she had to make an effort to smile.

Today, it was already there. For the first time ever, she was kind of at peace with herself. Today, she was wholly and completely, Buffy Anne Summers.

Who _was_ Buffy Anne Summers? She was the Slayer. Emphasis on the capital.

She’d empowered hundreds of girls, but she’d gone about it all wrong. At the end of the day, just one was meant to stop the spread of blah, blah, blah. It was a truth she’d faced a while ago—her brief stint as body-guard in Kennedy’s employ got credit for that—but now, Buffy was ready to do more than accept her role.

She was ready to build a life around it. Not a normal life, but a life that worked for her. Last night, one of her dreams kept her hopeful that she had a shot, surprisingly enough.

She had her friends, she had her sister, and she had a changed world to help. However she could, because she could. It was what she was here for. Maybe she’d give some hope back.

Leaving her mattress, she walked to the open closet. As she reached for her robe, she was finally waking up, and saw her hand. Yesterday she had a practically brand new manicure, and absolutely no fur. Today, she had a _paw_.

She had a _paw-hand_. Enlarged, clawed, opposably-fingered, plenty furred.

Turning sharply, she appraised herself in the full-body mirror inside the door. She resembled a halfway mountain lion. She still had her hair, still wore her nightgown, and still kept what breasts puberty had bestowed several years back.

Except there were also whiskers, a muzzle, a flat, dark pink nose, and double pairs of scary-pointy canines. She ran her tongue along them, wondering what the hell. Was she supposed to turn into Buffy the Anthropomorphized Vampire Slaying Cat? Why was she shocked?

This was her life.

 


	2. Part One

|~Last Night~|

_The first to stand apart. Spat in the face of an envious ancestor. Defied your Creators’ barbaric violation. Re-forged the Chain, only to rot the Seed and plant anew._

_Such an independent streak. Then why is she still kept enslaved?_

Buffy couldn’t be back in this cave. She’d gotten her origin story once, and once was her limit. Attempted magickal rape billed as empowerment wasn’t something she needed a refresher on. Not that she wouldn’t mind beating up those Shadow Men again.

But where was the voice coming from? It sounded so familiar.

“Hey, Echo-y Voice? I already lived this episode. Don’t need the re-run.”

And “enslaved”? She wasn’t keeping anything enslav...oh. Now she saw.

“Hello, kitty.”

_She began in so pure a form, she had none._

For some reason, Buffy felt a rush of guilt as she approached the chained and bound mountain lion. Like the voice, it was so familiar.

_But as your Creators’ magick grew less potent and generations reclaimed their humanity, she...adapted. For her sake as well her Slayer’s._

The animal lay on the ground. It couldn’t move; its eyes defeated, sad. A soft whine accompanied every breath.

_Is it any surprise, after thousands of years, that she would feel affection for those she empowered?_

Was this the Demon that infected the Girl? Was this the true source of her power? Was she just dreaming?

_You both were chosen, but did not choose. Her burden is your burden. You are not her enemy, you are her life. Her love, her loyalty, is absolute._

Buffy knelt down, cautiously moved her hand toward the animal, and as she watched its—

 

______

 

"Tail. Oh god, I've got a tail," she noticed it hanging between her legs. But then it began to rise, slowly causing the back of her nightgown to contort and stretch. "And, I am. I'm actually moving it. Great."

"Buffy, are you up?" her sister called from the other side of the bedroom door, interrupting unknowingly for once.

Buffy’s panicked, thankfully-still-human eyes darted away from the overnight developments.

"Nothing! I’m no!" she answered moronically, culling from the "Big Book of Stupid Things to Say When Hiding Something."

Risking a return glance to the mirror, she saw the tail lifting more with each second. If she wasn’t careful, she’d have torn sleepwear. Not that that was her main concern, but still.

Bending forward and reaching back, she pulled up her nightgown enough to spring the tail free, and attempted to get a peek. It had curled; the tip was somewhere above her and...and what was she doing? She didn’t have time for this.

Straightening herself again, Buffy snatched her robe with her larger, broader paw-hand, and threw it over that troublesome tail. Because it was a strong, troublesome tail, her admittedly weak solution failed. One good swing to the right shrugged the robe off.

“Uh...you know saying random words that make no sense is totally an early sign of dementia, right?” Dawn finally replied to what she’d heard.

“Go away,” hissed Buffy quietly to her tail as she tried to swat it.

Louder she said, “Now I’m remembering how annoying you were to live with. So if that’s why you came over, it worked. Good on you.”

“Hey! The only reason I’m here is because Xander’s...been busy, and I didn’t wanna go to breakfast by myself. Guess that was a dumb idea, huh?” Dawn groused back. “Now I’m gonna let you starve to death. Like that gimpy lion on the Discovery Channel.”

The word “lion” only reinforced that Buffy could not leave this room yet.

“I didn’t mean—sorry, Dawnie. _Wrong_ side of the bed,” Buffy apologized. “Thanks for thinkin’ of me, but I’m nowhere near viewable. I hafta shower still, an-and I’m pretty sure Slayer morning breath can kill things.” She held onto that breath a second. “Wait. Are you going to the...?”

“The where?”

“...Forget it.”

“Relax. Different one,” Dawn said knowingly. “But maybe if somebody’s way hotter little sister is way more forgiving than she deserves, I’ll bring back pancakes. Reeeealllly burnt ones. Without any butter on ‘em—maple or-or the regular kind.“

Buffy cut in, “Love you too.”

“Yeah, ‘til you aren’t hungry anymore. Awful frickin’ convenient, sis.” The smile in Dawn’s voice was obvious. “Call me later!”

Buffy listened to retreating footsteps, then to the apartment door closing. Exhaling her relief, she refocused on the situation at hand. Or more accurately, in hand.

The good news? During the talking, she’d miraculously, mostly changed back. Just that fast. The bad news? “Mostly” didn’t include the tail, and she’d gotten a firm hold on it.

Too firm.

“Ow,” she pouted, letting go.

At least that was teaching it to stay down.

 

______

 

Before a certain appendage shrank into non-existence, Buffy had every intention of being cautious. She’d been in the shower, reluctant to drench her tail (bad, smelly, no), when the lengthy nuisance obeyed. She focused on what she wanted, and got it. This wasn’t a werewolf situation. It was a better one—she had control.

Not the kind of control Oz used to want. She wasn’t suppressing an evil, inner-beast; she just chose not to wear that “outfit.” And she never felt like anything other than herself with it on. Even after she’d seen. But how’d this happen?

It didn’t make sense.

Buffy could worry later; she was busy. At the mirror again, she might have rushed the rinsing and repeating. Also, unless the towel counted, she hadn’t bothered to dress.

“Jumping off the ‘sanity train’ in 3, 2...” she informed her reflection, tying back still-damp hair.

Could anybody blame her for curiosity winning over caution?

Head turned just slightly, Buffy made sure to hold her mirror-self’s gaze. First, the top edges of her ears became steadily more triangular. As a whole, they grew a tad in height and width. Her earlobes retreated up until gone completely. And “those bumpy parts in the middle” lost their defined bumpiness and sank inward.

Her ears continued to curve into a distinctly feline shape and bent down flat, pushing out away from her head. They aimed skyward again after the look was right. When the bottommost part got level with her eyes, her ears also stopped traveling higher.

Fur started growing along the outer rim, a now familiar, dark tan, tawny color. It did around the backside as well, blanketing the flesh there. At the tip, there was a touch of black. Simultaneously, fur grew along the inner rim, some whiter and tufted.

It was a strange mix of sensations, reforming a body part, but Buffy’s experiment was a success. Through her open, bedroom window, she heard a tiny bird somewhere close by, rapidly flapping tiny wings.

“Wow,” she mustered, fingers poking at her fully-changed, right ear. It twitched on reflex, and her eyelids fluttered shut. “Sensitive. Check.”

Given the lack of discomfort as her ears changed position, shape and size, it had to be some type of magick. This didn’t seem like a demon/slayer/animal spirit bonding upgrade, though. Otherwise many teenage girls were keeping very mum.

Buffy needed answers besides ones she’d already had.

 

______

 

|~Last Night~|

Buffy knew the Voice finally.

_You seek connection with the world yet refuse it within, then wonder why the world remains elusive? You’ve embraced what you are. Embrace_ all _you are—free her. Or be forever alone._

First she thought it was the Guardian lady’s spirit, then the mountain lion/demonic power source...but no. The Voice was her. 

Her subconscious. Buffy yelling at Buffy. But since she’d always had trouble standing herself, she tried a disguise—omniscient authority figure speaking in a creepy atmosphere.

She was ready to pull back the mask.

“Quit it already, okay? Enough. Just talk like...us. Me,” she requested.

_Thank god. Faking knowing English and how to sound all formal? Kinda not easy._

Buffy stared at the captive animal, whose legs kept twitching in their bonds. She still fought, hadn’t given up, despite being beyond exhaustion. There was a lesson in there somewhere.

_She loves us, wants to protect us. She got over ‘crush-kill-destroy’ mode around forever ago. And she isn’t infecting; she’s giving. Supporting, even._

Buffy conceded agreement with herself. “On our way back from that questing trip, I remember telling Giles about this big cat that led me to my guide. He said stuff about animal spirits I didn’t hear much, except how it might’ve been mine. But...the guide I talked to...it was her too, wasn’t it? They were the same thing.”

_I’m betting the Council programmed that “death is your gift” line, and not just for us. Eighteenth birthday? The Council wanted slayers to not last. They were just the Shadow Men in tweed, and they had to have her on a seriously tight leash._

“Now she doesn’t hafta be,” Buffy understood. She was the one keeping the chains on. “She wasn’t...they weren’t always...like this. A demon cat.”

_She probably did that Volvo, mind-meldy thing Andrew tried on Xander once. Except hers worked._

_Whoever the Slayer was back then? When it happened? Imagine how amazingly more human she got to feel._

_If the giant kitty was “Buffy the Person’s” animal spirit, and she’s where “Buffy the Slayer’s” power comes from? Meldy togetherness hasta help life get a hell of a lot easier._

“So how come I can’t feel?”

_Um, ‘cause we couldn’t just accept and deal? Maybe if we had, if we didn’t try to get rid of something that_ is _us, we wouldn’t’ve felt so un-connected._

_What’re we afraid of? That we’re part-demon? It isn’t an automatic bad. Look at her—is she evil? Are we? M’ picking ‘no.’_

_We might be bitch-like, stubborn and unbelievably stupid sometimes...but we’re a good person. All of us. And since we’re apparently gonna live longer than we should...no more unbelievably stupid mistakes._

Suddenly the Scythe was in her hand. Her weapon, whole and unbroken, the way it was meant to be, the way Willow returned it to her. Because Willow was always there for her, even when Willow wasn’t _there._

_Remember when they didn’t change the world?_

______

 

She couldn’t ask anyone else—Willow would help fill in the huge blank. Which meant Buffy truly did have to get viewable, and go out. Since her best friend came back, Buffy needed to always make a good impression.

First she needed to dress, do her hair...problem was, she was never going to.

Not with her nose, mouth and teeth looking all unnatural and mismatched. As soon as she tried changing her whole face together, she’d absolutely work on that other stuff.

She poked at her left ear. It twitched too.

“So much cooler than when I was a rat.”


	3. Part Two

Fifteen minutes after Buffy had come through the back gate of Willow’s home, they sat in the den, blinds drawn. She may not have been as well-off as her ex, but Willow was doing okay. Better than. Jealous? Buffy wasn’t jealous. Willow had earned this and more.

But she wasn’t here to compare property values. She was here to demonstrate. Buffy held her hand steady between them, and began switching to full pawed, feline leg.

Due to extensive practice, Buffy learned that not only did she have control over when and what changed, she also controlled how. There were no set steps, it could always be new.

Fur broke through Buffy’s skin and followed along her entire right arm, only to hide under her blouse sleeve. Nails were soon growing into claws. Her hand broadened, fingers losing slenderness and tightening together. Her thumb tucked down and in against her hand, almost sheathing. Meanwhile, Willow gaped at the muscles, the width, visibly increasing.

Buffy turned her arm over as protective padding bubbled into existence on her palm and underside of her fingers. Fur sprouted around them as well. Buffy finished by retracting her claws, then revealing them again.

Willow’s own hand reached out after a moment. She looked to Buffy for permission.

Giving a slow nod, Buffy held her breath as Willow’s nails began stroking her much softer body part. It was a constant, gentle, back and forth motion. The longer it went on, the more relaxed Buffy became. Contented.

Her eyelids started to droop. She hummed almost inaudibly. It felt like she was under a...spell. That thought snapped her out of her haze.

A teasing smile rested on Willow’s face. “Buffy Anne Summers, d’you like being pet? Hmmmm?”

“Nuh-no,” Buffy denied badly, even as she felt that relaxed feeling again. “That’d be really...confusing and not sane and um...can you maybe st...stop now?”

“Don’t want to,” frowned Willow, and stop she didn’t. “What’s it feel like? Not, uh, _this_ ,” Buffy’s reaction wasn’t ambiguous in the least, “just, generally. In general.”

“It feels...like my arm. And like...like my hand. But heavier,” Buffy managed to answer. “Which is only ‘cause I’m uneven, kinda.” Beat. “Got any theories?”

 

______

 

|~Last Night~|

Buffy might not have given her animal those chains, but she was the only one who could take them off. She breathed a deep breath.

“I need to cut her loose.”

Tightening her grip on the Scythe, she swung at where the chain burrowed into the cave floor. It snapped on impact, and its wrapped coils vanished in a golden glow. The Scythe followed suit.

Willing her feet to stay put, Buffy watched the mountain lion rise up and slowly stretch out its entire body, head to tail. Had been a while. When it was through, it sat facing Buffy, staring her straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, extending her hand out, palm up. “I...I was scared, and it wasn’t right, and I never meant for you to...be in pain. Know it doesn’t fix anything—”

Mid-speech, the mountain lion went back on all fours.

Its coloring didn’t stand out like some others, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful. Tawny-coated, its fur drifted between various shades of light and dark. The darker areas were its face, and along its back. Its tail also darkened towards the ashen tip.

Buffy was rather awed. Purring, it nuzzled her offered hand, and she smiled softly.

Neither noticed the flash of blue in the other’s eyes. It shone bright, momentarily overtaking Buffy’s hazel, and the mountain lion’s amber. The same, both of them.

 

______

 

“I gave you the magick,” Willow didn’t even need to puzzle. “Remember Gnarl? The demon who thought I was finger-lickin’ yummy? But not in the fun, orgasmy way—in the skin-eating way. You helped me heal after.”

“That was...uh, how long ago exactly?” Buffy either legitimately couldn’t recall, or it was the petting’s fault.

“Four...years ago? Boy, how old are we?” Willow said in disbelief. “But, so, magick. First I borrowed some, then shared with you—and you shared a Slayer Band-Aid with me,” she spoke softly. “Only you never gave the magick back. Because,” They looked down at her arm, “see?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Buffy protested penitently, but still calmly.

Willow smiled again, forgiving. “Most witches not me are just conduits. They can channel it, but when they aren’t casting, the magick has to stay in the earth.

“Slayers _are_ magick, Buf. You’re magick. That’s why your friend the demon kitty was still around keeping you superpowered even between Seeds. You’re your own Energizer Bunny.

“When I gave you more? It felt right at home, and decided to stay comfy. How do you think you pulled off that ‘Amy’s Mom’ glamour when you ‘saved me’ from Dr. No-Face? A.k.a. DisgustingEvilFuckingBastardCreepo. A.k.a. Warren.”

“I did save you,” countered Buffy, trying to sound insistent but failing as Willow started using her other hand as well. “I...hoooooma....”

“Sure you did,” agreed Willow for her friend’s benefit.

Finally, suddenly, the petting stopped, and Buffy was fully-alert.

“I can try to take it away,” offered Willow. “From how your dream sounded though, it’s imprinted now. It’s even more than a spell, since you never actually...” she trailed off, realizing that magickal nuance was lost on Buffy. Plus, the rules had changed, which was how this happened. “Meet brand new you. Betcha you love it.”

Buffy chose not to say, looking elsewhere.

Willow grasped Buffy’s hands, paw included. “Don’t feel bad, you should. Your two ‘Half-Buffy’s’ are finally one whole ‘Buffy,’ then because magick’s so young now, you got taken a lot literally and, AbraCatdabra.”

“I knew it,” Buffy muttered about the literalness. “But yeah, I might a little. Love it, I mean. Thanks, Will. I’m sorry I...killed the old kind. I’m sorry I made you leave."

“Buffy, we had our ‘apology party’ already; my belly’s still full of ‘Forgive Me” fruit punch,” joked Willow. “I had to leave. Never woulda come back if I didn’t, and...and the world? It’s better than before,” she went on to assure. “ _I_ am. All of us can be.”

“Still sorry,” Buffy needed to reiterate. “Wherever you went, I would’ve gone with.”

“I know,” recognized Willow gratefully. “That’s why I had to say goodbye when you...weren’t so awake.” Beat. “I hated hurting you like that.”

“Hurt you first,” acknowledged Buffy, trying to keep her voice light. “Can we promise something? You’re as chosen as me now; same fight, different fu’s. It isn’t just yours, or even just mine anymore...it’s ours. So no more hurting. Let’s be chosen together.”

“That’s it? Pssh. Give me a harder promise next time,” Willow agreed quickly. “Oh! Have you gone all the way yet?” Her curious excitement returned with a vengeance.

“Gee, Will, personal much?” Buffy asked with a smirk.

The actual answer to the actual question was no. She’d been working up to it during her practicing, but hadn’t walked four-legged. She figured Willow had figured.

Willow stood up and pulled her off the couch. “Where...where’re we headed?”

“Upstairs. You don’t wanna be all nude down here, do ya?” Willow came off as rhetorical. “These hardwood floors are extra slippy and—“

Buffy’s brain crashed into some neural guardrail, and a bunch of innocent cells splattered on impact. “Habba?”

 

______

 

For all her shellshock downstairs, why was Buffy so comfortable standing topless in Willow’s bedroom? Well, if you couldn’t strip naked in front of your mesmerized best friend while turning into a full-fledged mountain lion, who could you do it in front of?

Or she just didn’t want her hard-bought wardrobe destroyed. Besides, that damn tail was getting squeezed.

Willow stared at the noticeable bulge in her jeans, then kept going down to half-barefeet/barepaws. Buffy was somewhat stung that the proudly Sapphic redhead wasn’t more interested in her breasts. But why? Why was she so comfortable?

Oh, she’d tried backing out, but she couldn’t tell Willow (or her own curiosity) no.

Unbuttoning her jeans, she worked them past her tail. As she did, her underwear went with. She helped both slide down her legs until her tail could breathe. Leaning forward, she curled it above her head voluntarily this time.

“Oh my goddess,” breathed Willow, soaking in the view from her bed.

Buffy brushed her hair behind her bald, feline ear. Not having a mirror handy, she could only imagine what she looked like. She knew her nose had flattened, that four teeth had achieved prominence over all her sharpened others, and that her muzzle was taking shape, but wasn’t fully there.

She also knew she wasn’t pettable yet. Anywhere.

The next words from Willow’s parched mouth were, “You’re...still not on my list. Not even the top infinity.”

“My list doesn’t even know you. Now d’you wanna see or not?” Buffy somehow kept the smile away. “ _Only_ see. No more petting. I’m making a ‘No More Petting Buffy’ rule.”

Upper paws were next, then fur, and finishing the muzzle. Whiskers appeared while her lower face elongated outward like a rubber band that should’ve snapped back, but never did. Completely restructured, her eyes were the lone holdovers. Even the brows above vanished, overtaken by yet more fur.

Like downstairs, her arms gained muscle. So did her legs. She slowly got closer to the floor, widening her jaws and exposing powerful teeth. A low growl rumbled through her.

Buffy took that as a sign to go quadruped.

She didn’t know who was more surprised when her spine shifted with a loud crack, her or Willow. Each newly, equal-in-length leg shot out to prevent her collapse. Claws dug into the carpet. Numerous, extra vertebrae “popped” into existence. Her hips moved forward, her ribcage narrowed and deepened. Stretching, she found her back remarkably flexible.

Other than color, her eyes were unrecognizable. She shut them tightly while her breasts and hair receded. When they reopened, they weren’t hazel anymore, and...

...and if somebody were to walk in, they’d see Willow trapped with an intimidating, predatory animal. Who’d eaten Buffy, yet left her clothes head-scratchingly intact.

 

______

 

While Willow’s best-friend-turned-cat enjoyed a lower center of gravity and re-learned walking, she tried to swallow her giggle. She was happy for Buffy, she was.

Not just because of the neat, new ability to transform, but because Buffy seemed more like the girl she used to know. Less beaten down by life, more excited to live it. And focusing on Buffy meant she didn’t have to think about being mother to the world’s new Seed. About growing it a thousand years too fast, and what that might ultimately mean.  

The slayer-cat was getting the hang of movement. She was circling the bed, looking at Willow with an intense, unknowable stare. You never knew what was going on behind cats’ eyes. Even Miss Kitty’s, pre-crossbow.

Soon enough though, Willow felt her friend in there, and Buffy began to experience being what she was. Sniffing the air, swatting it, testing her jaws, cleaning her paw with her tongue, and leaping. Onto the bed.

She promptly adopted a more anthro appearance—blond locks regrew, framing a fuller, but still felid face; her muzzle shortened, and eyes became green and hers again; brows returned, and breasts blossomed from underneath fur even as they stayed coated by it.

She lay on her stomach, propped her head up on her paws (with ears rising through her messy hair), and lazily swished her tail to-and-fro across her backside, grinning as much as a mountain-lion-person could.

Willow wasn’t turned on in the slightest. No sir. Lying, snake lady goddesses from astral planes were more her thing...until they went too far and she broke up with them.

Buffy’s life wasn’t the only one that had gotten complex.


	4. Part Three

“Stop being sexy!” Willow accused with narrowed eyes.

The reply to her accusation was a small growl. Willow instinctively jerked backward, but managed to refrain from jumping off the bed. Pressing a hand to her own throat, Buffy did some internal tinkering, got her vocal chords back, and tried again.

“Stop...stop thinking I am,” Buffy spoke unsurely, her voice lower and somewhat altered by how it bounced off her canines. “I’m not being anything—except a furrier me.”

“That’s the sexy!”

Buffy went from lying prone, to sitting back against her hind legs. Willow tried not to look, but her eyes kept getting drawn to cuddly nudity. This wasn’t exactly how those dreams neither of them had went (because they weren’t on anyone’s list), but a lot came close.

"This part was whose idea again?" asked Buffy pointedly. "I come here for innocent, helpful knowledge, and you drag me up to your bedroom, _make_ me be naked," she was enjoying this, "then ‘cause I trust my best friend totally and completely, you’re all mix-y with the signals." 

The last time Buffy had seen Willow this flustered, they'd been in high school. It was oddly comforting. Silent minutes came and went, until Buffy ended the teasing and placed a handpaw on Willow's shoulder, eyes smiling gently.

“Really glad I have my Willow back, yunno. I’m glad everyone‘s—”

Willow immediately pulled her into a hug despite the nude catness. “You better be. Because we’re still gonna need squeaky, matching walkers one day, and you’ve gotta make sure I don’t mix up Wednesday’s pills with Tuesday’s, and tell me I forgot to put my dentures in, and that my glasses were on the whole time.” 

No, wait, _that_ was comforting. As was Willow's constant, soothing, backrub. So soothing that Buffy purred. Honest-to-god purred. She realized what was going on.

"Rule being broken!" she exclaimed, but made no move to escape. "And I think I...shed, so...I-I'm gonna be...all over...“

Willow’s response was to use her fingertips more, pressing deeper. Buffy wrapped her tail around them both. Guess what Willow began stroking?

“Whoa’kay, this feels...did I 'wow' yet? ‘Cause I’m wowing." Her tail held tighter.

“Sorry, I have to,” Willow insisted, words blowing against the fur in Buffy’s ear. “Stroking a whole actual pussy-person? Especially your person? Gay heaven over here! This is my ‘once in a lifetime chance,’ chance.”

Head planted into Willow's shoulder, eyes shut, Buffy couldn't tell how much was joking and how much wasn't. Nor was she in the right headspace to grab her clothes and flee, just in case. She simply exhaled another unabashed purr, and gave in while somebody giggled.

Fine, she’d let Willow do this. The only person. She was putting her paw down.

For a few minutes down on the floor, the room might have felt confining—like a cage—until Buffy reminded herself that Willow was there. Willow was safe, Willow wouldn’t hurt her. Somewhere instinctually, she understood.

They were good, in this room, in this moment, and despite a primal desire to run for the sake of it, for space and freedom, she didn’t want to leave. She told herself, strange as it might seem, it’d be infinitely stranger and awkward if she were her human-self in this situation. She had to tell herself that.

“Um, can I...? asked Buffy hesitantly, uncurling her tail and trying to pull back.

Willow took her hands away like they were on fire. “I’m making this uncomfortably sexy, aren’t I? And after I was all grr and Snyder-like,” she berated herself. “I’m sorry, Buffy, really. But it isn’t like I get to come up with new blue every day. Only I did. _Me._ Willow.”

Wiser, mature, and probably still grieving old losses, yet some things hadn’t changed.

She was so proud of her semi-dirty joke.

Buffy could’ve told Willow she had the wrong idea, could've spoken. Instead, before she knew what she was doing, her lengthier tongue licked the side of Willow's face.

During the expected, abrupt silence she said, "I just wanna lay back down."

Now _that_ was uncomfortably sexy. Or not. It was hard to tell.

 

______

 

“Yay,” Willow eventually said, “but, stay? Just for a sec?”

Buffy did, but was awful disgruntled about it. “ _Dogs_ stay! I’m so _not_ a one of those, and so _not_ domesticated, either. You-you could be my dinner. I am gettin’ hungry.”

“You mean it? Gosh, it sure is nice in gay heaven,” replied an unperturbed Willow as she left the bed with pillows and put them up against its side.

She sat back against them, legs outstretched, on her carpeted floor.

“Come on down, the carpet’s fine,” she giggled again, patting beside her.

She and Buffy had made a point of getting back on track after a year of veering wildly off-course. When Buffy didn’t understand the loss of magick, understand the consequences, Willow left to prevent them. For reasons not exactly unselfish.

But she was done being on her own. Magick wasn’t enough.

She needed her family. She needed Buffy, and Buffy needed her. For her friendship, not her mojo. Thankfully, they were closer than they’d been in a long time. Since high school, probably.

It didn't get much closer than licking someone's face. Well, maybe a little. But she was just as happy to stay in the moment as Buffy was.

To her, this wasn't weird. Magick was meant to be as natural to the world as a mountain lion. Or a petite (bottle) blonde. That all three existed together felt right.

Nature and people typically didn't get along so well, but here, two, beautiful members of the animal kingdom were bucking the trend, melding and co-existing. Sexiness was unavoidable.

Willow smiled. If almost losing Dawn didn’t do it, today had certainly brought Buffy around on magick’s benefits.

Her friend did an eye-roll, but hopped down off the foot of the bed, springs squeaking rudely in relief. She had the same healthy body-weight no matter what form.

(Willow may have over-Googled “cats” during her Miss Kitty mourning period.)

Walking around, Buffy laid down at Willow’s right, took a wide-mouthed, teeth-showing yawn, and placed her head on a welcoming lap.

 

______

 

Willow was looking down, playing with Buffy’s hair. They used to do this a lot; this comforting/touching thing. Sometimes after having their hearts broken, sometimes while just watching TV and not even realizing. Holding hands was also popular.

Once Tara entered the picture, it suddenly felt a little like cheating, and so Willow gradually pulled away from Buffy. It began subconsciously, with dwindling touches. She didn’t want Tara to doubt how hard she’d fallen.        

It was a huge choice in retrospect. Buffy needed connection more than most, and Willow denied her physical proof of one she’d relied on. What Buffy went through in the years following, that choice didn’t help any.

Everything went wrong. Rather than be there for her, she tried to “quick fix” her. Rather than be her friend, she became her misfiring, big gun.

It wasn’t right.

She wouldn’t have pursued magick without Buffy. She wouldn’t have found her backbone, her confidence. Heck, she’d probably be dead. Or worse, a virgin who didn’t think she had a body underneath unflattering clothes. Buffy saw what nobody else ever bothered to notice.

Willow had been half in love with her, if she was honest. Falling all the way with Tara, only then did she know what to call it. No wonder touching felt like cheating.

These days it felt like they were returning to their version of normal.

She brushed a few wayward strands across Buffy’s awesomely-shaped left ear as she got asked, “Um, can you...?—no. I shouldn’t even ask, because...I shouldn’t. So I’m not. Doesn’t even matter.

“Unless you don’t, y’know, mind—and swear you won’t in any way be wigged—scratchingbehindmyears. Not that m’ asking.”

Willow grinned.

______

 

They must've stayed there for at least an hour, talking and ear-scratching. She’d never seen Buffy more relaxed. Buffy said it felt like a full body massage all from one spot. Yes, she could hold a coherent conversation now.

Willow went off on the perils of home-gardening and glove importance. Buffy was back working part-time at the coffee shop, and so shared horror stories. But they weren’t all.

Feeling so good, Buffy’s mouth ran away from her. What’d been on her mind since this morning, since Dawn went to breakfast, spilled out. It was more of a who than a what.

Abby. Abby cooked at the diner across from the shop and had big, deep blue eyes and a nice smile and was a perfect inch taller.

Buffy insisted that she didn’t _notice,_ notice these things. Because of course she didn’t.

"So she’s a cutie?" Willow asked, grinning again.

It took a second for Buffy to answer. "How would I know?"

Willow scratched the underside of her muzzle before tapping her on the nose. "'Cause you have eyes, ya hairy doofball."

"Not lesbian ones," Buffy pointed out, sounding lame to Willow’s not as sensitive ears. "Not since the phase that’s over. More than over." Her problem was trying to explain. "Yeah, I slept with Satsu, and yeah, it was nice—"

"Nice enough to do it twice. Hussy."

Buffy whined out a growl. "That was just goodbye."

"You bet it was," Willow was suddenly agreeable. "Just like when I rode Oz’s...little Oz, goodbye; even though I already said ‘boooo!’ to my John Cusack posters. A hearty boo."

That wasn’t agreement, it was sarcasm.

She dropped it for sincerity. “Just because Satsu didn’t make birdies appear, doesn’t mean you aren’t kinda bi.”

 

______

 

Considering Willow’s words, Buffy realized she was in a _comfortably_ sexy, sort-of-nude situation. She liked that it was a little sexy. She liked that Willow found her sexy, and Willow was not un-sexy herself. She wouldn’t even mind if it got sexier still.

Satsu busted that mental barrier.

She wished she could have loved the Japanese slayer; they would’ve had a fun relationship. But emotional-investment-wise, it wouldn’t have been an equal one. Buffy didn’t need that lesson again. Satsu deserved better.

None of that wisdom stopped the second round from happening, though. With Buffy playing a substantially more active role no less. Hmm.

Increased participation during goodbye sex? Seeing sexiness and being open for more? Fuh.

She _was_ bi. Except she wasn’t freaking out. Wasn’t cornering the nearest Xander, wasn’t imagining her opportunities for rejection and doom doubling.

“Okay. Maybe kinda.” Buffy saw Willow stare in disbelief. Disbelief at her admitting it, and that she was so calm. “I think this is how the new me is. No leaping slayer-style to the worst possible place, just going with whatever things...become a thing. And accepting ‘em so they’re really not.”

Willow looked happy teary, clearing her throat. “Well, we don’t usually bring part-timers up this early, but what the hey—welcome to the team! There’s a uniform in your cubbyhole. Careful, it shrinks in the wash.”

Buffy laughed, guttural, and then kept being honest. It was sort of catchy once you got started. “There’s, uh, something...I wanna tell you. Something you should know. If we’re teammates now.”

“Team or no team, you can tell me anything. Always could.”

“Guess today’s proving that.” Buffy came out with it. “Before Satsu, I always thought if I ever—“

“Pal’d around with Sappho?” Willow suggested.

“—you’d show me how. My best friend who I already kind of love. But then I didn’t want to _because_ we’re best friends, and if it was only the once, it would’ve been like using you. And the scariest door was...what if I saw birds?”

It would’ve been so easy. It was Willow. An amazing person who, behind that pretty flame of a smile, could be a little dark, a little dangerous, and was a little damaged. Over the years, she’d definitely become Buffy’s type.

“What if I saw when you had Tara? Kennedy? Your hot snake-lady?” Buffy frowned. “Reality always butts in. It’s _my_ not-fantasy, damn it.”

“Dumb reality,” supported Willow with an impressive non-reaction. At first. "I might’ve had thoughts too. Even Tara sometimes. But...know why you're not on my list? I love you way too much is why. I couldn’t just take a No. 2 pencil and say, 'Crossed-off now.’

“There woulda been flocks, Buffy. Think of all the sky poop."

Did they just say what it sounded like they both said?

 

______

 

Did they just say they couldn’t have casual sex because it wouldn’t be casual?

"Gotta pee," Buffy announced jarringly.

Either her bladder had horrible timing, or Willow had quickly found the limits of Buffy’s "taking things in stride" attitude. Nothing mixed about those signals.

Willow wasn’t able to exactly blame her. Why’d she say that? Because she wanted Buffy to know they had ground in common? She loved the openness, the sharing—felt like them—but maybe she should’ve forgone that last “bird” metaphor.

It meant something. Past-tense or not, they _couldn't_ stride on by.

"Okay," she sighed, not picking up on the reluctance with which four paws stood.

Buffy picked up on Willow’s, however. "I'm just goin' down the hall."

Willow looked into her eyes and saw truth, but got reinforcement anyway. Buffy licked the other side of her face then gently nuzzled it, with no obvious embarrassment. Willow brightened considerably.

"Okay." Giving Buffy's neck a two-handed scratch'n'rub, she watched her rise onto readjusting hind legs. "With a little practice? Somebody’ll have a long and productive future—on our team. It’s such a natural.”

Her eyes went large at reducing Buffy to a tongue. “Uh, _you’re_... _you’re_ such a natural. Super talented.”

Since Buffy was trying not to fall, Willow got away with that one. She rose herself, and grabbed waist from behind. “Gotcha.”

“Haven’t figured out how to not do that,” Buffy explained.

It had to be disorienting, switching from four-pedal to two-pedal.

“As long as you’re a good kitty,” Willow grinned, “next time you can go in the yard. But only where the stones are, ‘kay?” And then in a very different tone— “Who’s a good kitty?”

This was not how she pictured her day going.

 

______

 

Willow held Buffy close. Intimate close. Her chin was perched on Buffy’s right shoulder, whiskers tickling her nose.

Why was she still trying to fool herself? She’d never been half in love with Buffy. There was no half. As much as she’d loved Tara, she loved Buffy first—completely. And you didn’t stop, nobody did.

If there was ever a moment to seize...

Willow tilted her head and kissed the edge of Buffy’s ear, causing it to flutter against her lips. She bit back a whimper, kissed it again. Buffy meowed quietly.

Mountain lions did that? Goddess.

“Need to change. Back,” said Buffy, desperate, as if it’d make Willow let go.

No, if Buffy changed now, Willow was afraid Buffy would leave, and...

“So there can be kissing with lips and no risky hairball danger?” Willow asked hopefully. “Aww. I was wrong, Buf, you _are_ bright...as-as you are sweet.”

“Bathroom.”

“Oops.” How quickly she’d forgotten. “But, then lips? Or...do you wanna go out first? We could get churros. You know you love churros. Powdered-sugary kisses. Yum.”

“Y—no. I...” Buffy trailed off. It sounded on purpose. “Save them for who you really want, Will.”

Buffy wasn’t trying to run and play this off as some extreme version of a clothes fluke; she was just giving Willow an out. Even though she was better, she still had a long history of being terrible at relationships. Why subject Willow to that?

“You don’t like my kisses?” Willow pouted. “Well, too bad.  We’re gonna stand here snuggling— _more than snuggling_ —‘til I say so, so you better just go right ahead and change. A girl doesn’t need a tail to turn me on.”

Beat.

“Bring it back later though?”

Possibly her thing was animal women overall, not just slithery ones.

 

______

 

Buffy looked at “herself” in a mirror for the first time since this morning. She stood at the sink in Willow’s bathroom, her gathered clothes on the toilet lid. She was lost in thought.

She was thinking she almost didn’t make it in here. As she’d become tinier-framed and lost useful insulation, Willow’s hands touched her stomach. Touched skin.

They were hot, the hands. Mouth and hands. Willow had kissed her ears until they shrank away, then moved onto her throat.

Who needed fur?

There was a knock on the door. “In case you fell in and forgot I love you because your head’s lumpy? Then I wantcha to know...that I do. Love you. Buffy Anne Summers.

“That’s-that’s your name. In case you have other amnesia.” 

Buffy smiled small at her reflection.

 

_Willow was coming into the coffee shop on a lunch break, and buying a mocha with a kiss (but then money, so she had a job)._

 

Another knock. “Every way ‘love.’”

Buffy smiled bigger.

 

 _They were cooking dinner and being flammable at it and ordering Chinese_.

 

Another knock. “So much I wanna adopt you." 

Buffy giggled because it was funny and insane, not for any other reason.

 

_She was coming home from patrol to find Willow asleep at the table, because Willow was stressed over taxes...in May._

_But the teapot Willow left on for her whistles, and Willow startles half-awake, mumbling about German frogs invading the neutral, Swiss chocolate monkey house. Buffy carries her to bed, then doesn’t feel like getting a shower, so she just gets insulated, and lays over Willow’s feet atop the covers._

 

Another knock. “I think I hafta buy a permit. You’ll be an exotic pet...exotic! Isn’t this so much cooler than when you were a rat that time?”

Buffy saw a life with her best friend. She saw a Life. Finally. One that could work amazingly well for them both, where she wasn’t forever alone. Yeah, magick wasn’t so bad.

It was Buffy who spoke on the final knock. “Me too, Will. I want every way. I wanna try.”

 

______

 

 

She took a deep breath. “Come—“ Her friend burst through the door. “—in.”

“Are you okay? You weren’t going blind without me, were you? Do you need seeing-eye fingers?” Willow held up hers in offer. “They’re trained, and....pokey.”

The dirty jokestress got silenced by naked chest. “Did Andrew make another invisibility ray? ‘Cause he swore he’d get rid of Warren’s blueprints, and whatever he’s using as his power source, it obviously isn’t strong enough.

“Oh. He didn’t...” she frowned, eyes darting nervously around as she whispered and covered herself, “ _Did he make a naked ray_?”

“If he did, you really think we’re who it’s for?” Buffy asked, pointing out that thing nobody ever talked about, and then pointed out her clothes.

Willow looked to the toilet. “Hey, there they are. All...off, still.”

“Uh huh,” Buffy nodded, visibly nervous.

“How can we have churros if your clothes aren’t doing what clothes do?” wondered Willow, a playful sparkle in her drifting eyes. “I think we let the sexiness go too spin-y. Out of control spin-y. The worst part? It isn’t a demon—you could slay all day, and it’ll just be stronger. I have an idea though...don’t worry, Buffy.”

When Willow found Buffy’s flushed face again, hazel eyes asked what it was.

Buffy assumed they would crash together in heated passion like in the movies and those trashy novels she always pretended her mother never read. Instead, Willow got the green light, picked her up, and sat her on the counter’s edge, right of the sink.

Ooh. Marble was cold.

“Wha...?” Buffy was confused until her legs spread.

Ooooh. It was like in the movies. The late, late, _late_ movies.

Willow suddenly looked past her, to the mirror. Buffy felt why. Her tail, fleshy and inches in size, fwapped frantically on the counter.

It picked when to listen, she had to accept that.

“Gonna, um, eat your Pussy?” asked Buffy, coy and shy at the same time.

Hah. Willow wasn’t the only one who blue.

It lost some of its erotic oomph when they started laughing. Only soon it wasn’t funny, and Willow leaned over, kissing the laughter away. Traditional, capital, uppercase KISSING. Not a peck, not quick, and not tentative.

Even after the bare fur, bare skin, and familiar touching, it was all a hell of a lot more real. Unbelievably real.  Willow was kissing her, she was kissing Willow. Oh. Everybody’s. Gods.

“Mmm,” Buffy moaned as this monumental event drew to a close. “Love you back.“

Hearing those words, Willow grinned a too-big grin, her neck on fire with telltale arousal, and moved down to show off an equally super talent. 

“Holy...mother of...” Head lolled back against the mirror, Buffy couldn’t help gripping onto the red hair that’d started growing back out. Since it was sort of like petting, the more the better. ”...Mouth!”

 


End file.
